Mother quietly fixed my hair, fastening the feathered clips and straightening the ceremonial robes of the neighboring tribe.

Today was my wedding day.

The man I was to marry was named Tarek Vael, the eldest son of the chief general of the Northwind Tribe. Everyone called him the Wolf of the Northern Plains—a man who rarely smiled, spoke little, and looked as though he could cut someone down with a single glare.

But I didn’t know him for his glare.

I knew him as the young man who had once saved me from a pack of wolves when I was a child. I still remembered clinging to his hand and declaring, “Once I’m old enough, I’ll marry you, big brother!”

Well… Here we are.

I wonder if he remembers. Because I never forgot.

—

Mother stepped back and admired me, and her eyes immediately became watery. “Ah, my beautiful baby… You’ve blossomed into the perfect bride. I might just cry.”

She sniffled hopelessly, and despite my own nerves, I couldn’t help but smile.